No give in the metal,
The flesh bulges up around its edges,
In time it will settle,
The fingers on either side avoid it,
However subtly,
It is a force foreign to their purpose,
A reminder of what they're meant to be,
Blood once struggled to push past its pressure,
Until it found a way,
What nature hath made, let humans obstruct,
It will push back, one day,
With force majeure,
The ring to our fingers,
That prod things they don't know just, well, because,
The impressions of which ever linger.
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